Monday, March 25, 2024

Author Advice with Mark Towse #Horror #Thriller #Romance #Comedy


The lead-up to writing a novel…

I could speak all day about this subject. My advice for anyone just starting would be to ignore all the noise, lock yourself in a room, and unleash hell.

Undoubtedly, the first few stories will be subpar. And the ones after that. And the ones after that. But eventually, once you have released sufficient bile, you will find your own voice. Beautiful things will then follow.

We are a product of our influences. While there's nothing wrong with that, you must find your own unique style, one you are comfortable with. Readers will quickly pick up on the fakers, so authors must deliver every word with sincerity and emotion. It has to be you on the page, raw and unfiltered. It has to be true.

Sharpen the toolkit by writing short stories. I wrote 100 before attempting longer fiction. I've made a few mistakes in this writing business, but this was one of my better decisions. I then wrote 15 novellas before attempting my first novel. It didn't seem like such a mountain to climb after notching up all those credits.

Against the consensus, I'm a pantser. I always have been and always will be, even with novels. Once I have the thread, I just run with it and see where it takes me. This keeps the journey enjoyable for me and, moreover, fun. Perhaps even more importantly, it ensures my writing is fresh and unpredictable. If I don't know where the story is heading, you can be sure the reader won't. I've used that quote a lot. Someone once suggested that being a pantser wouldn't work in novel writing, but I vehemently dispute that. In fact, I disregard most advice, which I guess goes against the point of this post. Sorry. Not sorry.

But take intense planning, for example. For me, writing long chapter notes and ticking boxes would introduce a linearity that would ruin my playtime. There are many paths to weave and places to explore that one might miss otherwise. And if I knew what was happening, chapter to chapter, what fun would that be?

Allowing for character growth is also crucial. Only through bringing them to life on the page will you get to know and fully understand them: how they will behave under certain conditions, their motivations, insecurities, and desires. Such behaviour might ultimately differ from what you first envisaged, so adapting on the go is critical. My top tip would be to put characters together that you might initially be nervous about. I used to shy away from this, but you can learn so much from such explosive dialogue and emotions. It helps round off the characters; for me, it's just as much about their journey as it is about the plot.

I usually write 2,000 words daily (on my writing days anyway). This isn't considered a lot, but I edit my work as I go, enabling a degree of control and accountability and ensuring I don't go too far off the rails. It also means less of a headache at the end; attempting to make sense of a 60-80,000-word document after not revisiting it would feel akin to writing the book all over again. 

That said, the writing part is fairly straightforward. Marketing is the killer, and I have no secret recipe for that.


Chasing The Dragon
Mark Towse

Genre: Horror, Thriller, Crime, Fantasy, Romance, Comedy
Publisher: Eerie River Publishing
Date of Publication: 23rd March 2024
ISBN: 1998112268
ASIN: B0CR6PNZLQ
Number of pages: 234
Word Count: 68,650

Cover Artist: Tom Brown

Tagline: The town needed a hero… it got Reformo.

Book Description: 

A town on its knees, dread's bony fingers wrapping around its throat and squeezing, death rattles soon to follow.

Drugs, filth, and a lack of human decency are starving it of hope.

Introducing Simon Dooley, our trauma-driven wannabe superhero, the relentless voice of his dead mother pleading with him to "end the chaos." Dressed in a leotard and armed only with a dozen dog poop bags, Simon's plight will find him falling in love and going head to head with the seediest characters walking the streets.

The town needed a hero... it got Reformo.



About the Author: 

Mark Towse is an English horror writer living in Australia. He would sell his soul to the devil or anyone buying if it meant he could write full-time. Alas, he left it very late to begin this journey, penning his first story since primary school at the ripe old age of forty-five. Since then, he's been published in over two hundred journals and anthologies, had his work made into full theatrical productions for shows such as The No Sleep Podcast and Tales to Terrify, and has penned fourteen novellas, including Nana, Gone to the Dogs, 3:33, and Crows. Chasing The Dragon is his debut novel.









Hecate, the Goddess of Crossroads, Embracing the Unconventional: A Ritual by Lucinda Wicked


Hi there, fellow fans of the enigmatic and seekers of the unusual! Let's explore the world of ancient magic today and honor one of the most mysterious deities ever: Hecate, the mistress of magic, the invisible, and crossroads.

Hecate isn't your typical divinity, though. She exudes an air of mystery and edge that entices people who are willing to venture beyond the norm. And what do you know? She follows a ritual that is as distinct as she is.

We're going to travel into uncharted territory, so gather your candles, your plants, and your spirit of exploration.

First things first, locate a peaceful area where you can establish a connection with the surrounding energy. Make sure you're at ease and unbothered, whether it's in a quiet corner of your room or your lawn at night.

Let's speak about tools now. Hecate doesn't require or require complicated setups or sophisticated accessories. No, her focus is more on the unadulterated, primordial energy that comes from within. However, a few pieces may really set the tone. Consider using black candles to represent her evil side, a key to represent the opening of doors, and perhaps some mysterious herbs like lavender or mugwort.

After gathering your equipment, it's time to prepare the area. Scatter your herbs, light some candles, and allow the atmosphere to envelope you. Give yourself a time to center yourself and let the energy of the room combine with your intentions.

Now for the exciting part: calling upon Hecate herself. You can accomplish this in any way that seems appropriate for you, such as through meditation, prayer, or even a sincere chat. Honor her authority and seek her advice in a conversation that you would have with a reliable friend.

This is when the exciting part starts. Rather than adhering to a rigid plan, allow your gut to lead the way. Maybe you're drawn to whispering secrets into the night breeze, or maybe you feel compelled to dance beneath the stars. Whatever it is, have faith that Hecate will guide you on the right way.

Accept the shadow side of yourself while you communicate with the goddess. Hecate is about accepting all aspects of who you are, even the elements that society may find "dark" or "unacceptable." She is not simply about light and love. Give up the need to judge others and give yourself permission to explore your whole self.

And thank Hecate for her presence and wisdom when you are ready. Let go of your candles, throw your herbs to the breeze, and know that her spirit follows you everywhere.

And there you have it, people: a Hecate ritual as outlandish as she is. Recall that magic is about accessing the boundless potential that each and every one of us possesses, not about according to a set of rules.

Until the next time, may Hecate guide you through the dark, stay enchanted, and remain interested.

Cosmic Requiem Circle
Book One
Lucinda Wicked

Genre: LGBT, Paranormal, Dark Romance
Date of Publication:  January 13, 2024 
ISBN: 979-8872258339
ASIN: ‎B0CQKNLLF5 
Number of pages: 236
Word Count: 51,097 words 
Cover Artist: Lucinda Wicked

Tagline: Where shadows dance, and echoes of demise intertwine, Lady Death and Mistress Misery conduct the cosmic requiem, orchestrating the symphony of eternal darkness.

Book Description: 

Slice, butcher, kill

Misery has lived the last eon by their code. Hunting everything with and without breath for the right price. Unfeeling, without mercy. A greedy overlord makes Misery an offer they can't refuse. All they have to do is kill the silver ghost

Except this ghost is not really a ghost…

Collect, collect, collect

Death has learned the hard way that solitude is the only way to safeguard her heart. Cold, ruthless and without compassion, the universe has learnt to be terrified of death. Deserting at the mention of her name.

Until there was one who wasn't terrified. One who dared hold a knife to her throat.

Death is curious…

The universe has thrown death and Misery together and an ancient force looms in the background…

Death is about to find out that there are more twisted things in the universe and that perhaps…Death doesn't have to walk alone.


Excerpt:

Death was finally able to take a nap, she rested, moving to a beach in her dreams. As she sunbathed, she felt a ripple through her dream. An odious black thing streaking the sky. She felt a subtle tremor in the cosmic threads, a disturbance that distrusted her sleep, bathing her dream world in darkness.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She said, stretching her hand for her scythe. She got up and took off the sarong, slipping her arms through the sleeves of a satin robe.

With the sharp edge of her scythe, she ripped through the fabric of the dream world.

“I actually put a lot of work into creating this one. This better be worth it.” Death murmured, stepping out of the dream and entering a black void.

She found herself standing within the threading—a vast expanse where the fabric of existence intertwined.

Threads stretched in every direction, touching each other in a complex web of interconnections. Each thread was connected to another. They revolved around a small spool in the center.

She found herself, a small piece of black lopping around each thread.

“What is it this time?” She said into the endless void, her voice echoing.

Tainted threads manifested before her, the red threads had clumps of black glue choking it. Her face contorted in a grimace.

“Damn. That’s a lot of dirt. What has this soul done?” She asked. “Come. Let’s go find them. Someone has to die.” She sighed.

She stepped into Misery’s dream. She was lying awake in a dark space.

“Really? You have the ability to think of anything and this is what you choose?” She said, scoffing. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t know why I bother.” Death finished.

Deathless eyes stare back at her.

“The dark is comforting. You should know that better than anyone else. It is home to vile twisted things like us. Come lay with me.”

“Would love to but this is a bye bye text. I’m too lazy to reach for my phone. I’m killing two birds with one scythe.”“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“Who cares.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Somewhere terrible. " Death said.

Misery sat up, the shadows binding her to the black space falling away. “Where are you going?”

Death looked up, trying to convince her eyes to unsee Misery soft, white, naked, eyes open in ecstasy.

“To hunt a tainted thread.” Death said mindlessly.

“I’m coming with.” Misery said.

“You’re not. You’re busted up. Why are you naked?”

“I sleep naked.” Misery said, brows scrunching in confusion.

“I did not need to know that.” Death said, making a strangled noise. “Why do you insist on coming with me, Misery?” Death questioned, her mood souring. She looked at Misery with cold emotionless eyes.

Misery, undeterred, responded, “I’m connected to the balance as much as you are. I’m connected to you. It’s a roundabout thing. won’t stay idle when darkness threatens.”

“Everybody is connected to me, little psycho. Try again. I’ll be the last to leave this universe when it ceases endless existence. I’ll turn the lights out behind me. I’ll escort your soul to the after life too. Try again, Mise.”

“I have no soul.” Misery grinned, cracking open her chest to reveal a black empty space.

Death scowled. “You’re still not coming along.”

“Yes I am. I’m coming to cover your ass.”

“Literally or figuratively.” Said Death, her lids lowering. Misery flushed, disappearing into the shadows.

“Well. I’ll see you when I’m back.” Death said.

“I’ll be downstairs in five minutes. We both need to get dressed and you take ten years to change your clothes.” Misery said at the same time, wrinkling her nose.

They looked at each other, both frowning.

“I’m coming. The End.” Said Misery, disappearing into the shadows. Death cursed, opening her eyes.

She stood up, heading to her closet. She yanked out a long flowing lace vest and a pair of leather pants. She wore a silk shirt under the vest, the lace vest on it and a corset on the whole ensemble.

The lace looked like it was sewed to the corset. She slipped on a pair of black studded six inch stilettos and raced outside, sliding down the railing to the foyer.

She rushed outside, opening her Mercedes and taking a seat in the driver’s side. She pulled out of the castle, doing a victory dance.

She dialed Misery’s number, tapping her acrylics on the screen joyfully. The phone rang from inside the car.

She looked back to see a grinning Misery lounging in the back seat.

“You have to be shitting me.” Death said, shaking her head.

“I wish. You’re not supposed to leave people you’re going out with at home.” She said, laughing. She smoothly maneuvered herself from the back seat to the passenger’s side.



About the Author:

Meet Lucinda Wicked – a seasoned cosplayer with over a decade of experience. When she's not donning epic costumes, Luci runs her own gig catering to the spooky souls out there. Stickers, sweaters, and more – she's got your eerie cravings covered. Luci's love for all things spooky is practically woven into the fabric of her creations.

But Luci is not just a business owner; she's a proud member of the LGBT+, BIPOC, and Neurodivergent communities. Embracing diversity and uniqueness is not just a trend for her – it's a way of life.

You can snag Luci's otherworldly wares at Luminous Moon Swag, whether you prefer the virtual aisles of Etsy or the online realm at luminousmoonswag.com. And if you're in the mood for a quick cosmic escape, check out her TikTok micro-episodes featuring the Cosmic Requiem Circle.

In her spare time, you'll find Luci immersed in the magical realms of her own creation, embracing the spooky, and spreading a cosmic vibe. This is Lucinda Wicked – crafting dreams and bringing a touch of the supernatural to your everyday life.










Friday, March 22, 2024

Interview- A Murder of Wizards: Apocalypse Rising Year Two by Eric Swett


- What is your “day” job if you are not a full time author?

I am an account manager for an IT Managed Services Provider. I’ve been working in IT for more than ten years

- If you wrote a book about your life what would the title be?

That is a good question. I suppose if it was a general biography, I would have to go with “No Sweat” because the play on my last name is way too easy to pass up. The second choice would be,  “A Geek For All Seasons,” because I’m proud of being a well diversified geek.

- What is the hardest thing about being an author?

The hardest part for me is finding the time to write. Working a full time job, having a wife and kids, and a household full of pets (three dogs and six cats at current count), means I have very little time I can dedicate to writing. I find time here and there, often writing during my lunch break or after everyone else has gone to bed.

- What is the best thing about being an author?

The best thing is the way it feels when I finish a book or story. That is pretty amazing on its own. When someone reads your book and you get some positive feedback, especially if it is from someone you do not know. I’ve gotten some really nice reviews from complete strangers for my latest book and it sends me to the moon every time.

- Have you ever been star struck by meeting one of your favorite authors? If so who was it?  

I’ve never actually met one of my favorite authors. I’ve had some secondhand brushes with Robert Asprin, and that was kind of cool. Until recently, I’ve not spent time in many writing circles and felt more like a guy on the outside.

- What book changed your life?

Oh wow. That is a tough one. The first one I recall feeling like a life changer was Christopher Stasheff’s Her Majesty’s Wizard. I remember reading it and enjoying what was a pretty solid fantasy novel with a concept I though unique at the time (a person from the real world being transported to a fantasy world), but toward the end, there was a transformative scene that reminded me of the Arthurian legends. I remember less of the details since it has been years since I read it, but I remember the way it made me feel. For the first time I could recall, I felt like there really was a higher power, or at the least, a higher purpose. It’s not that I suddenly found religion and that changed my life, no, it had more to do with the way good writing made me feel deep inside.  There are other books and authors that have changed my life since, but that was the first I recall and I will never forget the way that book made me feel.

- What were some of your favorite books growing up?

When I was a kid my favorite books had to do with World War II, especially books about fighter aces and warplanes. I had one book in my grade school that I probably checked out once a month throughout fourth and fifth grade. I could have recited it to you back then. 

As I got older I got into fantasy novels. I especially loved the original Conan stories and the Robert Jordan Conan novels, but anything fantasy was an interest. Weis and Hickman’s Dragonlance novels and John Norman’s Gor series both played a big part of what influenced me in Junior high.

Highschool brought on Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels along with other like Dale Brown’s Flight of the Old Dog and the like. Robert Heinlein's Battlefield Earth and The Invasion Earth series were huge influences and I still reread them every few years.

- What books are currently in your to be read pile?

I’ve been reading a lot of independent authors as of late. I’m also listening to Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire on audio book. Next in my queue though is book five of the Wheel of Time series or book seven of the Goblin Slayer light novels.

- Which do you prefer ebooks, print, or audio books?

I prefer ebooks because I can read in the dark or wherever I happen to be. I don’t always have a paperback with me, but I always have my phone on me, so my kindle app is always on hand. I do read a lot of audiobooks because I spend a good amount of time on the road, but my audiobooks are almost always non-fiction.

- If you could live inside the world of a book or series which world would it be and why?

That is one tough call. A lot of what I read tends to be pretty bleak, but if I was pressed to pick one it would be the  Chicago of the Dresden File novels. I love the blend of magic and modern  and knowing someone like  Harry Dresden is running around would make me feel a bit better about the world.



A Murder of Wizards: Apocalypse Rising Year Two
Armageddon Angels 
Book Three
Eric Swett

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Haileybug Publishing 
Date of Publication: 12/9/23
ISBN: 979-8867576660
ASIN:B0CN7HJCGN
Number of pages: 251
Word Count: 95,789

Cover Artist: Eric Swett

Tagline: The Grim Reaper looks for a serial killer who is ritually murdering wizards and taunting them in the process. He needs to find the killer and stop him before his plot comes to a disastrous conclusion.

Book Description:  

Apocalypse Rising: A Murder of Wizards is an Urban Fantasy about a fallen Angel named Justin. He just happens to be one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the Grim Reaper himself, Death. 

Two years have passed since he remembered who he was and what he is. He is regaining  abilities and memories he lost when he chose to fall to earth and live among humans, but he has a long way to go before he can fully reclaim his title. When Justin is asked by a friend to investigate a string of supernatural murders he can't say no. Justin discovers he has a connection to the murders and has to find the murderer before their plans come to fruition.

Amazon      Books2Read      MyWritersCramp

Excerpt:

“Don’t look.” Justin turned and pulled Lilly to him. He tried to shield her from the gore splattered about the alley. The copper stink of fresh blood assaulted them as they stood across the street from the scene. As the Grim Reaper, eons of death dulled the impact for Justin. He wanted to keep Lilly from it if possible.

“I can’t.” Lilly looked away, but it did not help. Despite being blind, the murder shone in vivid technicolor to her. Being Justin's Oracle gave her sight far beyond what any normal person enjoyed.

The pull of death drew her attention, and in her mind's eye, the scene coalesced as clearly as if she stared at it. The violence and butchery lit the aura surrounding the dead body in angry tones of black and red that shone like a spotlight upon the murder.

She placed her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting.

The splayed open corpse's entrails hung about the alley. The smashed kidneys hung from the side of a dumpster. The lungs sat in a pile against the alley wall. The liver dripped blood into a shallow pool beside the corpse. The buzzing of flies grew louder as the dead man's evacuated bowels drew them to the feast.

The callous mess made of another human left her uneasy.

She wanted to block it out, bury her head in Justin’s chest, and flee the scene. She tried to look away, but ancient instinct forced her to bear witness to the death of a fellow human. Her instincts buzzed with warning. Her palms sweated, and her lips trembled. A predator lurked nearby, and she needed to be aware.

“Lilly.” Justin put an arm around her shoulders and turned her back to the horrific scene playing out in the alley. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Justin wanted to go home and leave it all behind them. Lilly wanted to know what happened and needed him to tell her so she did not have to face it alone. The closer they got to it, the more apparent the full extent of the horror became.

“What…what is it? What happened, Justin?” Lilly held onto him tightly, seeking comfort in his strength.

He apprised the situation with a practiced stare. His experience on earth gave him some insight, but his familiarity with death brought everything into focus. He scratched at the stubble on his chin as he considered the dead man. “Looks like a sacrifice of some sort, a ritual, but not one I’ve seen before. Doesn’t appear demonic, but it could be part of a summoning. Maybe something geographical...”

“Can we go? I don’t like the way this feels. There is something wrong about this. I can't put my finger on it, but there is something dark here. It's tickling my senses, tempting me, drawing me toward it like an inevitable conclusion.” She turned her back on the scene and shuddered.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure. Let’s get out of here.” Justin guided Lilly away from the murder. Justin held her hand gently as they walked. “Sorry about that. Hazard of the profession. As the Angel of Death, I've seen a lot of corpses. It’s not every day you come across something this unusual.”



About the Author:

Eric Swett is a husband and father. He has a beautiful wife named Tracy and three fabulous children (Zachary, Connor, and Kaitlyn). Between the four of them, he has absolutely everything he really needs in this world. If everything else went away and he still had them, he could die and count himself a fortunate man.

He works in IT, streams video games, and dabbles in 3D printing.

He is a self-proclaimed Geek and does not adhere to a single form of geekdom. He likes roleplaying games, tabletop games with painted miniatures, video games, comic books, science fiction and fantasy, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Doctor Who. 










Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Storm's Convergence by Valerie Storm #YAFantasy


Storm's Convergence
Demon Storm 
Book 5
Valerie Storm

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Date of Publication: 2/13/24
Cover Artist: @Ginkahederling
ASIN: B0CRYQJRN1
Number of pages: 313
Word Count: 78962

Tagline: The Fire Witch ruined Kari's life once before
                Now she's back
                And she's not alone

Book Description: 

The calm can only last so long.

Now a member of Freehaven's Council, Kari tries to put her past behind her and settle down in her new home with her ever-present Lord and love, Ari.

Cracks in her mind, parting gifts from the heart eater, make planning the upcoming Spring Festival a struggle, but Kari is determined to do her best, even after Guine departs the town.

When a mysterious child appears at the festival and marks Kari, all semblance of normalcy is banished.

A triple threat from her past awaits beyond the walls of Freehaven and options are thin. Not willing to spill any more blood, Kari takes it upon herself to stop them—with Ari by her side.


Excerpt:

The girl grabbed the neckline of her shirt and jerked her closer with too much ease. Kari stiffened as the girl’s cheek touched hers.

“Funny wolf demon, hiding in this wretched town.” Her voice was low and cruelly amused. Kari tensed, prepared to jerk free and throw a fist, but the girl hissed, “Ah, no, don’t move. There are many innocents here, though I would not call demons innocent. I know you would not want them hurt.”

She suddenly realized the closeness of so many villagers, as if she’d been ripped out of reality and dropped harshly back into it again.

Kari bit back a growl. “Who are you?”

She knew, though, before the small girl laughed. The boastful yet righteous arrogance of someone who believed truly and wholly in her cause—it could be no one else.

“I feel your defeat. You’ve answered your own question.”

Kari’s throat was dry. “Ri…Riniko. What are you doing here? Why—”

“Since you’ve yet to heed our warning, I’m here to play a little game.”

“Kari!” Ari called.

Riniko’s small hands tightened. “Tell him to leave. We’re busy.”

She hesitated. Ari yelled for her again, and now she envisioned him pushing through the crowds, looking for where she’d gone.

“It’s fine,” she yelled back. “I…I’m helping someone. I’ll catch up!”

Riniko’s grip didn’t loosen. “Your boy is insistent.”

Kari turned her head with some difficulty, given Riniko’s grip. The little witch traded, wrapping her arms around Kari’s neck with a giggle that cracked against her eardrums.

Visible between passersby, Ari made his way to them. His brows raised at the sight of the girl around her neck.

“Who is…”

Kari smiled, big and wide, and prayed he didn’t notice her trembling lips. “She’s lost. I’m part of the Council, so she came to me. Go back to Rathik and Essie, I’ll catch up.”

Ari saw something in her face; his eyes constricted, his jaw pulsing, uncertain of what to do.
Please walk away, Ari. It’ll be okay this time. I promise.

When she did not say anything more, he relented. “Alright. Meet us over there, okay?”

Kari nodded, jostling Riniko. Ari glanced between them, then jogged off.

Riniko giggled again, quieter this time. “Good.”

Kari grabbed her around the waist and yanked her off. There was something insanely surreal about holding a small child in her hands, a child whose eyes burned with unmatched cruelty and fire.

“What do you want?” she snarled.

Riniko wrapped too-small fingers around Kari’s wrists and met her eye with a cool, even gaze.

“You know what we want. I’m only here to set the fire of action a little higher for you.”
Her palms, pressed against Kari’s skin, warmed. Kari’s eyes widened, and she struggled with the instinct to fling the small child away.

“We do not want to burn this entire village to the ground. Despite the way these villagers associate with demons, they are still good, innocent people. The demons can be excused as long as they remain thusly. But you cannot. You must come and face your fate.”

Her arms were burning; Kari bit back a scream. “I keep telling you, I don’t want to hurt anyone! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Tell that to those poor people in the east. They probably thought you didn’t want to kill them. But now they’re very, very dead.”

Kari staggered back. There were fewer villagers out now, less to see this odd pair, but Kari dreaded what Riniko would do if even one was drawn to them. She inched away from the square, edging toward an alley between two buildings.

“Isn’t it enough that I died once? What more can you want?”

Riniko laughed. “Oh, yes, but Zina got cold feet. Superstition, I guess. She couldn’t let it die with you. No, she believed it would go on, despite having no body. So here you are, her little pet wolf demon, but she won’t be here to save you a second time.”

Cold feet? Let it die with her?

The burning on her arms increased, snapping her attention back to Riniko’s young-girl face.
“I’ll come to you,” Kari croaked. “Does that make you happy? I’ll leave and find you.”

Riniko’s eyes lit up, though she did not remove her hands. The heat continued to rise until Kari thought she could smell her flesh cooking.

“Oh, do you promise?” Riniko asked, her voice girlish, sickeningly sweet. “Pretty please?”

“Please stop,” Kari whispered between her teeth.

Little hands lifted, releasing her from the agony of fire. Kari trembled, then froze as those hands touched her cheeks.

“It was easy to infiltrate this place, Kari. It would be even easier, now, to set it all ablaze. You remember my previous work.”

Kari’s hands around Riniko’s waist shook with the effort to not squeeze her into pieces. “You’re the monster, witch,” she snarled.

“It takes a monster to slay one,” Riniko responded. “Remember that if you decide to hesitate any longer. I’m tired of waiting for this final show. My sisters have both seen that I was right and now it’s time to end this.” Riniko raised her hands. “Put me down.”

Shaking profusely, Kari set Riniko on the ground, where the little witch-girl brushed off her plain, brown dress. She fluffed her hair, then raised a finger to her lips.

“Remember your promise,” she said, then spun and skipped away into the darkness.



About the Author:

Valerie Storm was raised in Tucson, Arizona. Growing up, she fell in love with everything fantasy. When she wasn’t playing video games, she was writing. By age ten, she began to write her own stories as a way to escape reality. When these stories became a full-length series, she considered the path to sharing with other children & children-at/heart looking for a place to call home.












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Thursday, February 22, 2024

Aestrangel the Fallen by Maria DeVivo #DarkUrbanFantasy


Aestrangel the Fallen 
The Aestrangel Trinity 
Part 1
Maria DeVivo

Genre: Dark Urban Fantasy
Publisher: 4 Horsemen Publications
Date of Publication: September 2023
ISBN: 1644509261
Number of pages: 240
Word Count: 63K

Tagline: Hell hath no fury like an angel scorned!

Book Description: 

Aestra, favorite teenaged angel of The Lord, has been sent to Earth to ensure that high school senior, Jake Parker, pursues the correct path. He is teetering between two options that may seem innocuous, but only one will lead him to positively impact the lives of millions of humans.

But what happens when the heart chooses love over responsibility? For Aestra, one fateful night will set into motion a chain of events unforeseen by even her infallible Creator.

Excerpt

From Chapter One: Learning the Ways

They tell me I should be dreaming by now, that the images and scenarios should be well-embedded into my brand-new subconsciousness, but for me, all there has been is color. No. That’s not right. When I close my brand-new eyes, all that consumes me are the shifting shades of grays and blacks, and I’m not sure if this is something I should be worried about or not. I’ve been in this human simulation environment for quite some time now, and I’m guessing that part of my “humanness” hasn’t kicked in yet. But I’ve heard the others talking and describing their dreams, and I’m getting anxious for my first one. Revalia, the closest thing I have to what humans call a “best friend,” has told me the fabulous tales of her dreams. She says sometimes she doesn’t even want to wake up. She says the images and sounds and smells are so overpowering, so overwhelming, that when she wakes up, she desperately longs to go back to that dreamy, lazy place between the conscious and unconscious mind. I wish I knew what she was talking about.

I know my lack of dreams worries Camael. He has told me many times the human experience is multi-pronged and multi-faceted, and in order for me to complete my calling, I must be immersed in the most basic of human functions. There’s no other way for me to complete my mission because there’s no other way for me to be a “believable” Guardian to the human I am assigned. And if I don’t complete my mission successfully, I will never move up the ranks and become a Guardian Angel. Camael is in a higher order of angels than I am—the Dominions. He’s my mentor, and it’s his job to prepare me for the journey that I’m about to embark upon.

Yes, I’m an angel—we all are: Camael, Revalia, the others, and me. But, my rank right now is that of angel—the lowest rung on the ladder. My goal is to move up to Guardian, and hopefully beyond. It’s the natural progression for my kind, and I’m excited to serve the Creator (or God, as the humans refer to Him) and all of His glorious wonders.

There is no time—not the way humans divide time up at least. I’ve always existed, yet there are others and elders who were here in Ilarium before I was created, and since I’ve been given the ability to communicate in human language, it seems hard for me to put into words all the thoughts and feelings that I had before. Before, there was just love and peace and a willingness to serve and please, but now there is an actual lexicon, a vocabulary of tens of thousands of words, that I’m still trying to figure out how to effectively communicate and verbalize what’s in my heart. Never having had a heart before, it takes some getting used to.

We angels who are preparing for our callings have been thrust into a human-like world in order to become accustomed to the actual life of a human. The Powers That Be have replicated the physical world and have created buildings and structures for us, given us languages, infused us with feelings, and given us body shapes all in preparation for our descent to Earth.

While angels are neither male nor female, I have the body of a woman now, and I will be assigned female attributes from here forward. I rather do like the contour of the female form, I always have, and perhaps my partiality towards women is what prompted the Creator to put me in a woman’s body. My wings are more defined too; they are heavy on my shoulders with the feathered tips almost irritating the backs of my arms and legs. As the human notion of time becomes more ingrained into our routine, the weight of my wings becomes more and more cumbersome. Camael has said that the awareness of our wings was important so when we lose them on our descent, the shock wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t know; I’m still trying to understand all my teachings. Like how we’re going to be given a set of human memories specific to us and our assignment, yet have all the knowledge of our angelic lives. The thought of blending the two perplexes me.

This leads me to right now. This time. This place. The unfamiliarity of it all. Camael says this is a school, and the human I am assigned to help goes to one. I know this. I’ve seen them, the humans. I’ve watched them from up high, but actually being in a school—the four white walls and chairs called desks filed in rows with children sitting at them—is quite an adjustment. I sit in the front of a single aisle. We’re in alphabetical order, and I’m Aestra, so that means I’m first in the row. Revalia is a few desks behind me. I turn my head to try to catch her attention, but she’s staring out the window, deep in what Camael calls a “daydream.” I look at her a few seconds longer hoping my gaze can break her trance, but she’s too far gone, mesmerized in her human thoughts. The one disadvantage to being in this human shape is we angels can no longer feel the thoughts and emotions of others without speaking them. If I had been free from this woman body, I would have been able to read Revalia’s mind, but then again, if we weren’t in these human forms, Revalia wouldn’t be having such thoughts as hypnotizing daydreams…


About the Author: 

Maria is the Author of the Amazon bestselling and award-winning series The Coal Elf Chronicles, the YA psychological horror series The Altered Experience, and the NA Urban Fantasy series The Aestrangel Trinity. When not writing about dark fantasy and horror, she teaches Language Arts and Journalism to middle school students in Florida. A lover of all things dark and demented, she takes pleasure in warping the comfort factor in her readers’ minds. Just when you think you’ve reached a safe space in her stories, she snaps you back into her twisted reality.








 




The World of Gnomes- Guest Blog with Jessica Ash #DarkFantasyRomance


I’m Jessica Ash, fantasy romance author and expert on all things faerie. I want to thank Paranormalists for having me as your tour guide today as we explore the fabulous world of gnomes. 

There are four different types of gnomes in my fantasy romance world of Underhill: Galentian, Scalian, the common cave gnome, and the garden gnome.  Each of them requires careful consideration when approaching. Today we’ll discuss garden gnomes, as they are the most likely kind of gnome you’ll encounter.

Garden gnomes are small, but surprisingly fierce. They’ve been known to attack for little or no provocation and are very protective of their homes. The good news? If you are lucky enough to have a dedicated garden gnome at your house, you have an excellent guard for your front door. They’ll keep a careful eye out for strangers and make sure your belongings, especially lawn decorations, are left alone. However, if you are ever lost in the fae world of Underhill, be wary of the garden gnomes. They will see you as an outsider and can be dangerous.

In my fantasy romance, A SWORD OF BLOOD AND ROSES, my fae hero, Logan, has no fear of gnomes. As what we humans call an elf, Logan is tall, strong, and possesses a very powerful magical Gift. To an upper fae like Logan, a garden gnome is nothing but a nuisance, but the wild fae have long memories. Luckily, Logan and Trina are off on their own adventure solving the mystery of why the Black Queen wants all of Trina’s family dead, and they leave the garden gnome far behind.

As you read the rest of my fairy tale fantasy romance series you’ll encounter more than grumpy garden gnomes and arrogant alpha elves. There are evil queens, trolls, and of course, my cheeky puca, Solanum—a mischief making shape-shifter who is chaos incarnate. If you love a deep, well-developed fantasy world, fairy tale romance, and alpha heros who steal lovers away to faerie, then you’ll love the HUNTED BY THE FAERIE QUEEN series. Come to the Dark Forest, there’s no cookies but there’s definitely magic!






A Sword of Blood and Roses
Hunted by the Faerie Queen 
Book One
Jessica Ash

Genre: Dark Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication:  June 30, 2022
ISBN: 9798201496227 
ASIN: B0B1XQTX28 
Number of pages: 322
Word Count: 85,000
Cover Artist: Firda Graphic

Tagline: When the Queen of the Fae is after you, sometimes your best bet is falling in love with the enemy.

Book Description:

Enemies to Lovers Dark Fantasy Romance...

He was supposed to kill me...Now I'm his prisoner.

I was supposed to hate him...Now I'm falling in love.

But neither love nor magic can save me. And Now time is running out.

When the Queen of the Fae is after you sometimes your best bet is falling in love with the enemy, even when he's your kidnapper…

Read all five books in Kindle Unlimited. Discover enemies to lovers romance like you've never read before.


Excerpt:

Riding into the dry-as-bones mountains on the back of the puca, Logan’s anger seared bitter in his chest. It rolled off him in waves, pulling thunder down from the sky. He toyed idly with the storm letting his anger draw the danger of the lightning to him as he seethed.
Fifteen years away from his hounds. Fifteen years of Solanum’s running wild, the puca causing havoc wherever he went. Fifteen years of Logan’s life eaten away in the hole of the queen’s dungeons.

And now he was to kill witches for the queen—a fact that rubbed him raw.

Humans were amusing companions, why create trouble? Irritated with the brief flare of morality, he smothered it with brutal force. It didn’t fucking matter what he wanted. It never had.
Lightning cracked. The eerily silent hounds of the Dark Hunt tightened around him, their tense glances and snapping teeth reflections of his flaring emotions.

He had no room for second thoughts tonight. The Black Queen had given him no reason why she needed these witches killed, but if he satisfied her it might give him his freedom. At the very least it would give him some space. Maybe some time to figure out a way to stay out of the dungeons. And time to figure out how to truly extricate himself from her bloody dominion.

Because no matter what she had promised him, he knew, there was no way she would simply let him go. Not after the way he had betrayed her.

Solanum tossed his head and bucked. “Quit squeezing my ribs.” Lurid green faery flames leapt from his hooves, igniting short-lived cold fires in the dry Wyoming brush.

“Cease, horse,” Logan said, squeezing his legs a little more. Punching Solanum’s buttons felt good, really good. Just like his wrath at the queen felt good. Justified.

The puca tossed his long mane into Logan’s eyes. “Lay off, or you’ll be eating dirt,” he snarled, nostrils flaring red in the dimming light.

Solanum’s irritation put a hard smile on Logan’s lips. He tightened his legs and drove the puca harder down the hill through the brewing storm.

A hound pushed in too close. Solanum’s hoof lashed out, connecting with a solid thud. The hound’s yipe sounded inside Logan’s head as he regained his balance, cursing the hound’s behavior and the puca’s intolerance.

He was back. The hounds would get used to him again. And Solanum too.

Thunder crashed in the sky, following him down into the shadowed hills as he approached the witches’ lair. Nostrils burning from the ozone, nerves tingling, he distracted himself with the dark moist wind, manipulating it to blow through the dry autumn brush like a child's tantrum.

He laughed, the spiteful wind stealing away the dark sound as cracks of thunder echoed off the mountains. He let the anger simmer and the lightning moved further away. He wasn’t free yet, and he wasn’t suicidal. What he was, was trapped. And it pissed him off, the frustration riding him like a hag.

What could he do when the queen changed her mind and refused to release him from her service? What if the bitch thought she could use him then put him back into her dungeons Underhill, calling him to her side like a lapdog? He needed a way to show her there would be repercussions. He needed leverage.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. They tipped over the edge of the valley in search of the witch. A wavering glow of candles shone above the last few rocks.

Almost there.

The telltale traces of a spell raised the hair on the back of his neck. He extended his Gift to perceive what he couldn’t yet see. A labyrinth set by a single inexperienced witch. His lips twitched. As protection it might have worked, had the Faery Queen sent her regular henchman. Unluckily for the witch, the queen had unleashed him. The Dark Huntsman.

He would kill the wench, and be done with this thing between himself and the queen of the Tuatha De Danann. And when the queen refused to release him? He’d deal with that when the time came.

The wind carried the hot dry smell of sage mixed with the smell of fear and musky female. He inhaled the raw flavor of the witch, the taste of her fear and anger and power, slid down his throat, easing his rage.
The anxious hounds shifted around him, sensing the proximity of their prey. Solanum rounded the rock.

And there she was.

The sight of her rocked him back like a blow, almost knocking him to the ground. And he realized—despite the stasis, fifteen years had been too long a time to be without a woman.

Glimmers of power limned her naked body and the silver blade of the athame that gleamed between her breasts. Her legs were spread slightly apart, tensed for battle. Long black hair crackled and lifted with static. Her expressive face was poised on the edge of dilemma, her body caught between the need to hold the spell and the need for action.

He paused to let the feel of power and woman roll through him.

Beautiful.

Unexpected.

Green, almond-shaped eyes widened. Her stance firmed, her shoulders pulled back, and her full breasts rose, nipples tightened with cold or fear. Something wild and raw he hadn’t felt in a hundred years stabbed low in his gut.

His agenda changed.

The queen wanted to kill the witch. Why? His plan of placating the queen suddenly seemed weak. She’d never let him go without leverage, and here was leverage standing naked and lovely before him. He had a new plan.

Screw the queen.

 

***

Thunder boomed.

Trina glanced up the valley. The dying light made it impossible for her to see much more than the silhouette of a horse and rider barreling through the boulders and uneven terrain, tearing down the rocky hillside at an impossible speed. But no barrel racer would endanger their mount careening down the mountain in a thunderstorm. Or ride a horse the color of the absence of light with freakish red eyes. Only something truly inhuman would light up her inner sight with that particular eerie blue glow.

The acid in her stomach rose into her throat.

An elven lord.

Oh fuck! I’m screwed.

She swallowed the fear down. Her trap, her best effort, all her hard work. Dumb. Stupid.

Pathetic. None of it would hold an elven lord—a full adult fae whose power would make her trap look like an art project. She wished she could hide the evidence, like a small child wiping up the crumbs of stolen cookies.

Horse and rider skidded and slowed in a shower of ricocheting rocks. The enormous red  hounds flowed out, surrounding the labyrinth as the cloaked rider and his dark mount advanced.

She held still, athame at the ready in sweaty hands, prepared to bolt if she had the chance. Her eyes flicked from the approaching rider, distracted by the lesser threat of the huge, sharp-toothed,  yellow-eyed hounds encircling the labyrinth like silent sharks waiting for the command to take their prey.

Her.

“Damn shame to kill you, witch.” His voice was smooth, well-aged whiskey with a hint of brogue.

 “Then don’t.”

“What will you give me instead? A life requires a powerful exchange. And I was sent for your death.”

Trina tried to keep her face even and not reveal her panic. She had nothing he could want.

Anything of true power that a fae like this one might consider valuable, was safely out of reach and driving down the road in the van. Gone. Along with any reinforcements.

“How about honesty?” She offered in desperation.

“Funny girl.” The dark presence leaned forward, his impatient mount’s feet shifting on the gravel.

The nervous sweat on her back grew cold.

“Although I would enjoy taking the time,” his voice carried easily over the wind and thunder, “we shouldn't stand here bargaining. The queen awaits my report.”

The lord’s level tone distracted her and she was unprepared when the horse moved. The pair crashed effortlessly into the labyrinth, cutting a destroying swath across the short, brushy sage and heading for her at the center. Spectacular violent explosions burst into cascades of colored lights, as if her carefully constructed wards were merely firecrackers, instead of huge magical grenades.

The overwhelming smell of crushed sage rose, and she swore the evil-eyed horse laughed. She reached inside for what was left of her power, losing her grip on it when he leaned over and grabbed her arm. With no apparent effort, he hoisted her up.
She scrabbled for a handhold in an effort to not fly over the horse into the waiting sea of teeth and dogs. She tangled one hand in the long black mane and held tight to her slippery knife with the other.

Strong arms wrapped in leather tightened around her, forcing her upright, her toes dangling sidesaddle. Everything happening too fast. She barely had a grip in the long black mane when the creature flexed under her and they flew over the candles.

The flames blew out.

They landed on the other side of the labyrinth in a hard jolt. She slipped.

If I fall, I could run.

Before the thought had been and gone, her grip on the mane loosened. She slid to the side. Hot breath and the scrape of teeth on her ankle warned her, just in time. She yanked her foot out of range of the snapping jaws, and lost her balance. Making an instinctive grab for the mane with her right hand—she dropped the knife.

Her kidnapper growled and tightened his grip on her stomach.

She gasped for her voice. “Put me down!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I either kill you or take you with me.” The sparkling black blade of his laughter cut deep into her soul.

Accelerating faster and faster, they wove in and out of the treacherous rocks in a mad, blurring rush up the side of the valley. If she fell off now and hit a rock, she’d be roadkill. She anchored both hands firmly in the mane and leaned back into the solid chest of her attacker.

They raced on, licks of green fire lighting up the hill behind them. A deep maw of black within purple mist formed ahead, transforming the familiar landscape into a horror. The knowledge of where they headed slammed inside her brain.

Trina’s heart sped into a sharp staccato.

Words of denial formed in her constricted throat, gone long before she had a chance to know what they were.

Don’t make me go.

They rocketed to the top of the valley, the piranha hounds schooling tightly around them as they raced to the looming mouth of the portal. Steely muscles bunched and flexed under her.

Launching into the air, they flew into the mix of fog and darkness encased in the sound of her scream.


About the Author:

Jessica Ash loves dragons, magic, and romance, and is lucky enough to write about all three while consuming boatloads of chocolate. Her favorite fantasy is taking a luxury cruise up the Rhine where she could stare at the castles along the water and dream of faery. She writes dark fae fantasy romance where evil queens are on the hunt and strong heroes and heroines fall in love.



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